


Building a Home

by MagicAndSparklez



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Book 3: Queen of Air and Darkness, Kierarktina, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Book 3: Queen of Air and Darkness, Post-Book Series: The Dark Artifices, Spoilers, qoaad spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicAndSparklez/pseuds/MagicAndSparklez
Summary: I orignally planned on having this as a few one-shots, but now realise that this will be part of a bigger collection. This is the first installement. We follow Kieran, Mark, and Cristina as they work together to build the perfect home given the circumstances they've been presented.***story contains spoilers for QOAAD, there is a more in depth summary in the first chapter's notes!





	1. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this story, we follow Kieran, Mark, and Cristina as they work together to build the perfect home. We see the love they have build grow, see the effects of the seperation that they face, and how they cope and react to it. We will see everything from making the cottage a their home, to seeing the struggles of being apart. I hope y'all will enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we explore Mark and Crisitna's initial visit to the cottage since Kieran has taken residence there. It is soon discovered that some work is needed to be done. The chapter is pretty simplistic and subtle. I hope that this sets a good tone for the story. I apologise in advance for it being a bit all over the place, and if it's a little slow!

Kieran’s brother had been kind enough to give him his cottage. He had felt a surge of gratitude when Adaon had said that would allow his brother to reside there. He sat in the living room that consisted of a torn couch and cracked marble table set before an eternally burning fireplace—it had been an enchanted flame that was set to burn consistently when lit.

The faerie awaited his other thirds, they had convinced him that he needed to redecorate a little, _make the place_ _his own_ , as they said. Kieran initially was a little confused, the house _was_ his own, and it belonged to him now. It only took Cristina calling him her _silly person_ before she explained that it simply meant that they needed to make the house fit him better, and change it up a bit. Kieran was perfectly fine with the cottage his brother had left him, it had two bedrooms, a small stove and kitchen area, and even a little living room with a fireplace. He could make do here—after spending years in the Hunt, anywhere could suffice.

There was the sound of a key clicking the lock open, and in waltzed Mark and Cristina. They greeted each other with a series of kisses, and smiles. When they were inside, the house immediately felt more comfortable.

Cristina was carrying a large cardboard box, and Mark had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “We may as well get a start,” Mark suggested, shutting the door behind him.

Kieran nodded and guided the pair to the living room that was around a bend from the entrance. Mark dropped the bag on the couch, a small puff of dust sent flying into the air.

“You’d think a prince would have owned a much nicer place,” Mark remarked, watching as Cristina set the box she had been carrying onto the floor beside the table.

She wiped her hands on her jeans, a faint trail of dust settling into the material. “It was much different when I had visited,” she recalled, glancing around the room. She looked at Kieran, “what happened to everything?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“He took much with him, the Queen decided that he could take residence in her courts. Adaon sent for Seelie courtiers to collect his belongings, but they left me with very little,” Kieran explained in his demure demeanour.

Mark hesitantly pressed a hand into the couch, as if expecting it to explode upon being touched, before carefully sitting down. “Kier, you know I love you, but there is no way you can let us leave you in a place like _this_ ”, Mark gestured to the surrounding area.

There was a large area rug rolled up in the corner that appeared to be shedding fur, the three grimaced as it flopped over with a small nudge from Cristina. “We need to go shopping,” she suggested, stepping back from the dissolving rug.

Kieran wandered over to the box Cristina had brought in, lifting the panels open, “I was under the impression that you already had” he stated, inspecting the contents of the box. It had been mostly bed linen, a collection of soft blankets, and some pillows. Kieran pulled out a fitted sheet from the box, holding it agape in his hands, “this is much too big,” he commented.

Cristina took the sheet from him, tossing it back in the box, “can we see the other rooms?” she asked, her voice gentle and delicate as it always was.

Kieran nodded, motioning for the pair to follow. When Mark stood up, a spring tore through the ragged fabric of the sofa. A look of alarm rushed across Cristina and Kieran’s faces, but Mark was quick to dispel any concern with a look that indicated he was all right.

The three headed down a short hall where there were two doors. They entered the one on the left first, greeted by a dimly lit room. The curtains were tattered, the bed in the room sat on a frame carved of oak, one of the legs, however, was broken off.  _I don’t even want to know how that happened,_ Cristina thought to herself as she scanned the room.

In the corner of the room, there was an open doorway showing a small bathroom. It was the only part of the house so far that looked as though it had not been touched.

After a moment of silent observation, Mark clapped his hands together, startling Cristina. “Okay,” he said, “we have some work cut out for us; nothing we can’t handle.” Mark turned to Kieran, “next room?” he asked, an eagerness laced in his tone.

“It only gets worse,” Kieran warned as the three turned, exiting the room as they headed to the one across the hall.

“I doubt that,” Cristina chided. She went to turn the knob, but it simply spun on a broken mechanism. Kieran came beside her and hip checked the door open. _By the Angel,_ she thought, _he was right._ The room looked as though a storm had torn through it. There was a large upright dresser that had been turned onto its face, there was a lump that looked like it had once been a mattress laying in the middle of the room. In the furthest corner, there was a window, but it was barely visible by the dirt and cobwebs that were covering it.

“I stand corrected,” Mark was wide eyes, staring at the mess, “we may not be able to handle _all_ of this,” he indicated another pile beside the alleged mattress.

“I’m surprised Adaon would do this,” Cristina noted as she thought of the kind prince.

“ _He_ didn’t,” Kieran clarified, “when they sent a group of Seelie courtiers, they received word that the cottage would be passed into the possession of the King of Unseelie.”

Mark and Cristina nodded with an understanding look. The three backed out of the room, pushing the door partly closed, but only enough to keep it from appearing open, it would be a nightmare trying to open it again.

Cristina wandered the halls, passing by the living room towards the small kitchen area, “at least they left this all intact,” she observed.

It was true, the kitchen and bathroom were the only areas that hadn’t been entirely trashed. The kitchen was a very quaint area. It had a wood range stove, a relatively clean counter, a deep sink, and even a small fridge. What the fridge ran off of was a mystery to the three as there were no electrical outlets in sight, but it was a lovely addition to the area.

“We have much to work on,” Mark remarked, turning to face Kieran. “Should we start by removing the mess?” he suggested, his eyes curious as they met his.

***

The three had worked for what felt like an eternity to remove the debris of old beds, and unidentifiable lumps of fabric and wood. Cristina had thought she was carrying the remains of a chair when a small pisky flew out from under it with a startled look. The creature carried away the torn fabric it had been hidden under, leaving Cristina with a pile of what looked to be five chair legs.

Mark and Kieran both dragged the old mattresses and bedframe outside, depositing it in a pile that would be taken away by a team of Unseelie fae. A quartet of Fair Folk had wandered by when the three had begun to move items from the cottage, asking to take some of the old tattered furniture off their hands. They agreed, and before they knew it, word had spread that the King was getting rid of possessions, and a trickle of another dozen fae had wandered by to take things from the accumulated pile of garbage.

Mark hadn’t ever understood the phrase of _one man’s trash, another man’s treasure_ , but now he could see the concept in full swing. Faeries milled around, spouting tales of being lucky to own something so close to the King of the Unseelie lands, how kind he was to give away to those in need. Kieran was indifferent about the situation. It made for less cleanup for the three of them, so what was he to complain about?

By the time the sun was starting to set, they had cleared out the bedrooms, save for having returned the upright dresser to being upright. It seemed to be the only thing intact anyway.

Bemused, Mark watched as a group of brownies carried off the last items from the cottage. Kieran had moved the dresser into the bedroom connected with the bathroom. Upon emptying the rooms, it was revealed that it was bigger than the other.

The two boys stood in the large bedroom; without the curtain—even though it was torn and sparse in shading—the room was filled with a dim glow of the setting sun.

It illuminated the pair nicely as Cristina walked in, dusting her hands off on her jeans. She smiled, _my beautiful boys,_ she gazed dreamily at them as she came closer to them, just by the window.

“I’m surprised the redcaps let them get this close to you,” Mark observed.

It was strange that guards—those sworn to protect the King on their lives—would let a crowd so near the crown. But Kieran had always had a reputation of being kind, being selfless. He knew that the guards would have acted out should any of the passersby have posed any real threat. “They know what to do,” Kieran said, idly fidgeting with the hem of his loose linen tunic.

Cristina yawned, examining the open space, “I think we would benefit from a bed,” she put an arm around Kieran’s waist, sliding between him and Mark.

Mark draped an arm around Cristina’s shoulder, “we can make do,” he wriggled his eyebrows, his hand sliding down her shoulder to grasp her hand.

Cristina giggled, swatting Mark’s hand, “I was trying to imply sleeping, not—” she cut herself off with a sigh and rolled her eyes.

Kieran let out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Mark, our Lady of Roses requests a bed,” he observed, “we must fetch a bed.” His voice was clear, demure as it always was.

Cristina clasped her hands together, “there’s this wonderful shop with the most _gorgeous_ beds and décor,” Cristina began, her eyes drifting to meek Kieran’s.

Mark smiled, he had always secretly enjoyed shopping and decorating. It was a guilty pleasure of his back when he was younger at the Institute; he was always redecorating his room, and those of his siblings when he could. He loved designing and redesigning the living room, helping the kids build blanket forts and making sand castles with them at the beach.

Reminiscing of the old days when his siblings were small made him smile with a bittersweet throb in his heart. He saw Julian grow up, the twins partly too—but everyone else was so little when he left. He hardly saw any of them grow up, and when Mark came back, everyone was so different; it was almost as if they were _completely_ different. Even though Julian already _seemed_ grown up when he left, he had become so wise, and so mature beyond his years. It made Mark’s heart ache more. _He_ should have been taking care of Julian and the kids, _he_ should have been there for them, should have done more—

_“Mark?”_

He was snapped from his reverie when a concerned voice interrupted his thoughts, “Mark?” It was Kieran, he repeated himself, his voice steady, but hesitant. He moved to stand in front of Mark, putting a hand on his cheek, “what troubles you?”

Cristina was also in front of Mark now too, her eyebrows knit together, worry abundant in her eyes.

“It’s—” he shook his head as if to clear the thoughts from his mind, “nothing.”

“It is to my understanding that, in the mortal world, when one says _“it’s nothing”_ , it really is indeed _something_ ,” Kieran claimed, his thumb brushing along Mark’s cheekbone.

Mark shook his head, Kieran’s hand dropping from his cheek to rest on his shoulder. _I miss my family,_ he wanted to say, and let out a sigh before speaking: “I promise, I was simply lost in my thoughts,” Mark claimed, a forced smile appearing on his lips.

“We both know that is not the whole truth,” Kieran squeezed Mark’s shoulder, “but I will not press, it does not appear you wish to speak of it,” he declared, his voice understanding.

Mark nodded at Kieran, his eyes silently thanking him.

Cristina extended her hand, grabbing one of Mark’s. “If you ever change your mind, you know that we are here for you. No matter what,” she stated, squeezing Mark’s hand for reassurance. Cristina looked back and forth between the boys, her lip bit. “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “if it wouldn’t be too much of an awkward time to say, do you think we could head out and get that bed? Maybe dinner while we’re out, too?” She suggested, an eager smile coming over her.

Mark chuckled, drawing Cristina’s hand to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “For our Lady of Roses: anything,” he said in response. Kieran nodded in agreeance with the pair.

She shook her head, giggling at the name, “what did I do to deserve you two?” she asked, her smile growing as Kieran grabbed her other hand.

“What _didn’t_ you do, my Lady?” Kieran returned, his hand pulling hers to his lips, mimicking Mark’s gesture.

Mark smiled at the pair, his heart feeling a touch less broken. _Perhaps family wasn’t only the ones you were born to, but also the ones you found,_ he thought, a smile falling across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm on break, I'm gonna be hopefully posting relatively frequently, or at least write a fair amount. Next chapter is full of Kieran reacting to mortal customs as Mark and Cristina drag him out shopping into the mortal world. I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, I'd appreciate constructive criticism, and suggestions! Reviews are always appreciated, I hope y'all enjoyed!


	2. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we explore Cristina taking Mark and Kieran out to the mundane world, shopping around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of lowkey fluff and sweet content: I hope it's bareable. I really wanted to just put them in a realtively normal life situation--after all, they deserve a much simpler life!

“We need to blend in when we are out,” Cristina declared, looking at Kieran in his linen tunic, suede breeches, and leather boots. “The boots can stay, but we need to make you look less…” she trailed off, her hand gesturing him up and down, trying to find the words she was looking for.

“I look fine,” Kieran defended, his eyebrows scrunching.

Cristina shook her head, “you look absolutely handsome, _amor_ , but to the world of Mexico City, you look like you crawled out of the pages of an old fairy tale.”

Mark walked back into the room and produced a pair of ripped-knee jeans, and a simple dark grey t-shirt from the duffel bag. “These should work,” he said, handing Kieran the clothing.

He took the clothing and examined it, putting a hand through the rip in the jeans, “what happened to these?” he asked, looking to Mark and Cristina curiously.

“That’s the fashion,” Mark stated, matter-of-factly. “Just put them on, Kier; you’ll be fine.”

Kieran let out another sigh as he pulled off his tunic. Mark and Cristina both exchanged a look and eyed his bare torso. He was much stronger and muscular than he would appear to be despite his slight frame, and it was a spectacular view. He pulled on the grey t-shirt before kicking off his boots, and discarded his breeches.

Cristina went wide eyed and blushed, turning to look away. Even though she had seen him naked before and knew that faeries were pretty shameless about themselves, she couldn’t help but feel as though she were seeing something that was she wasn’t supposed to see. She bent down and grabbed the duffel bag Mark had discarded on the floor, reaching into it and pulling out a jacket. She slid her arms into the soft chambray of the jacket, keeping herself distracted momentarily.

When she looked back, Kieran was fully dressed again, looking beautiful as ever in modern clothes—albeit a little disgruntled. She smiled at him, watching as his hair shifted to a darker blue than it had previously been.

“I look like a fool,” he claimed, looking down at the light wash jeans, and plain shirt in dismay.

Mark and Cristina shook their heads, their faces both plastered with adoring smiles, “you look ravishing,” Mark insisted, his gold eye winking.

Kieran rolled his eyes—an oddly human thing for him to do—and bent down, pulling his boots back onto his feet. “Let’s go then,” he grumbled, walking down the hall, followed by Mark and Cristina.

It was interesting to learn that just beyond the front yard, there were two trees that served as a gateway to a portal. Apparently it was specific designation for the King, and it only went one way, but it made their transportation back to the mortal world much simpler than expected. They stepped between the trees, portaling to the bustling city of La Condesa.

Cristina led the group, walking toward a quaint shop whose windows were full of bed sets, and home furniture. Mark stepped ahead, holding the door open for the others, “your highnesses,” he said, bowing his head with a smile.

Cristina smiled, walking through, followed by Kieran who gave Mark an odd look, “you need not be so formal, my Mark,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

Mark shook his head at the King, a short laugh escaping him as he followed Kieran into the shop.

The triad were greeted by a saleswoman with deep brown skin, and piercing amber eyes. Cristina responded to her greeting, a friendly smile exchanged between the two. The shop clerk pointed to the back section of the store before smiling again, and wandering off. Cristina turned to the boys, cocking her head in a motion that said, _this way,_ as she led them deeper into the store.

Kieran looked around, astounded by the sheer size of the beds, the softness of the blankets and bedclothes adorning them. He ran his hand along a headboard, feeling the smooth polished wood under his fingertips.

 _“Ay,”_ Cristina gave him an alarmed look, rushing over to Kieran, “be careful,” she called out, “some of these are rowan, some use iron nails.”

Kieran looked at her surprised, quick to dispel any concern by holding out his hands palms up, showing them unharmed. “I apologise, my princess.” He bowed his head, showing sincerity in his words, and reached out a hand to hers.

They held hands as they continued to traverse the store, Cristina warning Kieran when nearing any rowan wood, and iron frames—though her warnings didn’t serve as much help as the close proximity to iron had a tendency to make Kieran sneeze or shiver.

It wasn’t long before the pair heard Mark sneeze. They quickly looked over to him, sitting on the edge of a bed—one a wrought iron frame.

Cristina rolled her eyes, marching over to Mark. She said something under her breath as she hauled him to his feet, dragging him away from the iron work. “Both of you, stay close to me,” she ordered, her voice authoritative yet gentle.

The pair obeyed, following closely behind Cristina, looking at the delicate framework of the beds, and occasionally test-laying on a bed after Cristina gives them the clear. After only fifteen minutes of searching, Mark found a carved oak bedframe that he determined was perfect for the cottage. It was stained with a slightly darker tone, and had a large headboard, carved with intricate filigrees and vines.

The triad had come to the conclusion that it was indeed perfect. Cristina found it amusing that it was a king bed fit for a literal king, mentioning it to the other two. Both, having been so far disconnected from the mundane world, were confused, Kieran now asking why the bed was a king bed, and if beds sizes were determined by status, and how illogical that system would be.

Before Cristina could try and clarify, Mark confidently proclaimed that all beds were not determined by royal status, but were named after them. This only led Kieran further astray from the truth of mundane bed sizing.

Regretting her comment, Cristina put her face in her palms for a moment, wondering, _are these really the men I want to spend the rest of my life with?_ before glancing back at them. She saw their curious faces as they tried to decide if a princess bed would be taller or wider than a prince bed, and how a queen bed differed from a king one. But she couldn’t help but smile at them. She watched as Mark wandered across the store pointing out a queen bed to Kieran, who touched the headboard, immediately retracting his hand, rubbing it. _Rowan wood,_ Cristina thought, sighing in exasperation.

They may not be the brightest, they may be silly people, _but they’re_ my _silly people,_ she thought fondly, stepping towards them. She grabbed Kieran’s hand, rubbing a soothing hand over it, kissing the back of it, “I love you two so much,” she said, the words coming out without thought, “but Angel help me if you keep wandering off and touching things without thinking.”

Kieran bowed his head, “my sincerest apologies, my lady,” he pulled their connected hands back to him, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “My heart beats only for the pair of you,” his over hand reached to grab Mark’s repeating the same motion as he did with Cristina.

A shopper passing by gave the three of them a look that silently said _get a room_ , before rolling his eyes at them. The triad dropped hands, and Cristina took a step back, her shyness getting the best of her. A salesclerk wandered by, asking in Spanish a question that Mark and Kieran couldn’t understand, but were thankful as Cristina answered, and pointed at the oak bedframe they had decided on. With a nod, the clerk went off to a pair of doors leading to a storage room.

Cristina looked back at her loves, answering the question that lingered in the air, “she is going to check if they have that frame in stock, and will give it to us if they do.”

“Not to sound obtuse, but how could we get it out the door?” Kieran asked, confused by the idea of dragging a giant wood frame out a door smaller than the frame itself.

“It will be in three boxes, we will have to put it together. It’s not that bad,” Cristina clarified, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “In the meanwhile,” she looked from Kieran to Mark, “we can try out some mattresses,” she smiled and turned on her heels to wander to more beds—these ones all on the same metal frame, but with a variety of different mattresses on them. Mark grabbed Kieran by the hand, dragging him along after Cristina. They branched off, the three finding different ones and flopping over on them.

Kieran had been surprised by the first one he sat on. It was a pillow top mattress, and when he leaned back into it, he melted away in its soft embrace. He had grown so accustomed to sleeping on the ground, on rocks, in trees—he had nearly forgotten what comfort was. It was an obscure feeling to him, he pushed himself up and tried another, this one far more rigid. It felt like home to him—but home had been a bitter place. He bit back the memories of his past, heaving himself up, and continued around the store.

Mark was thoroughly enjoying launching himself from mattress to mattress, gaining strange looks from other shoppers as he did. He felt like a kid, rolling off one mattress only to flop onto the next. Having had to endure sleeping on whatever Mother Nature had provided for him in the Hunt, he had gained a tolerance for nearly anything—but it felt nice to sink deep into a memory foam mattress, even comfier on a pillow top. His voyage from bed to bed was interrupted when he rolled into Kieran—who was standing at the other side of a bed he was on. He gave him a strange look, the prim and proper King would not be caught dead behaving as Mark was. But when Mark smiled up at him, Kieran couldn’t help but let flash a small grin.

Cristina had gently sat on bed after bed, deciding that any bed would feel comfortable when surrounded by her loves. She looked over to where Mark and Kieran were, Kieran standing with his arms crossed, looking at Mark who was laying on a mattress with a large grin taking up his face. She couldn’t help but laugh. Despite them both having been together in the Hunt, there was such a distinguishable difference between them. When Mark was freed from the Hunt, he managed to shake most of the formality he had gained from being a prisoner of Faerie. His posture was more relaxed, his behaviours were slowly becoming more mundane, but Kieran seemed to only become more proper than before.

They complemented each other in such a beautiful way. Kieran’s eyes being the black of the night sky, and silver of the moon greatly opposed Mark’s: one blue like the morning sky, and the other gold as the sun. They were like two sides of the same coin at times, and Cristina had been worried that she could never fit into their circle, but was so grateful that she did. They held her together, it could never be two without the other, and she liked it that way. Maybe in another life she would have had to pick, but she felt so blessed that she found two people that she loved so fiercely, and who loved her as well.

 “Tina?” Mark’s voice was gentle as though approaching an animal that may attack.

She snapped back into the world in front of her, noticing the slight alarm in both of their faces. Cristina couldn’t help the befuddled look that came across her face. She hadn’t realised how long she was zoned out, but now Mark and Kieran were now in front of her, both looking back and forth between her and each other.

“Is everything all right, Princess?” Kieran reached a hand out to grasp one of hers.

She nodded, shaking the cobwebs from her brain, “lost in thought,” she said simply. Her eyes met his black and silver ones, “I really do love you,” her gaze transferred to Mark as she spoke again, “the both of you.”

“And I you, my Lady of Roses,” said Mark, his hands going to each of his loves, “and my King.”

Public displays of affection to Kieran were nothing to be embarrassed of, yet he could sense that Cristina was growing uncomfortable with the attention on her. He simply locked eyes with her and then Mark, a look that said more than _I love you_ crossing between them. He dropped their hands, taking a step back, breaking the cluster they had formed.

Thankful for the room around her, Cristina let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding in. “So,” she said, breaking the silence that was forming, “did you find a mattress?” she asked, her brown eyes curious as they darted from Mark and Kieran.

Mark looked to Kieran as if asking him the same thing. He tilted his head from side to side, “I would say I am indifferent in my preferences, but I must confess I do like that one,” he said, pointing back to the one Mark had rolled into him on.

The three walked over to it, Mark rolling over on it, Cristina setting herself down and laying back, leaning into Mark. It was plush when you initially sat down, but when settled it was also firm. It had a memory foam topper on it which made it a bit taller than most of the other mattresses in the store.

Cristina and Mark both looked to Kieran, “are you going to join us or just stand there, silly?” Cristina teased, reaching a hand out to draw him beside her.

Reluctantly, Kieran laid beside her, the three of them fitting together comfortably on the spacious bed. With a reassuring nod, Mark looked over to Kieran from Cristina’s other side, “this is nice,” he said, a smile coming over his face. “It’s like laying on the earth in Neston,” he observed.

While in the Hunt, there had been a period when they frequented the marshes in Neston, laying out their cloaks and falling asleep curled together. The memory brought a bitter sting to both former hunters, yet they both found comfort in the memory of finding comfort in each other’s arms.

And now, they found the most comfort when Cristina was by them. She was an anchor when their thoughts would fly away to the times of the Wild Hunt, she always kept them grounded, making them much happier than they had been when it was just the pair of them.

It was likewise in every direction of the triad’s relationship. Mark and Cristina always felt as though something was missing, something that made them realise that everything was worth it: that was Kieran. When it was Kieran and Cristina, sometimes Kieran’s faerie behaviours drew too much of a separation between them, and Cristina’s Shadowhunter customs would in turn put up a wall. Mark always brought down those barriers, keeping them united.

In their own way, they all saved each other. Every memory one had of the others was a cherished one; even the ones that stung at times. Their personalities brushed, but never rubbed the wrong way. When it was the three of them, everything was perfect.

Breaking out of his trance, Mark rolled his way off the bed, “shall we make our purchase and take our leave?” he asked, his mundane and faerie speech entwining in his words.

Both Kieran and Cristina looked up at him nodding as they rolled off the bed, standing beside him. Cristina waved down the saleslady who was already walking toward them, the women conversing in Spanish. The lady turned and walked off to the front of the store, Cristina trailing behind her.

Mark and Kieran looked to each other, deciding it would be best to follow them. Cristina had reached into a pocket in her jacket, producing a credit card, paying the expenses. Kieran watched in fascination—a piece of plastic could hold more value than a tonne of gold coins—the mortal world truly was wondrously strange.

Before long, Cristina turned to face them, explaining how they would go out to the back behind the store to get the boxes for the bedframe, and that the mattress would get delivered the next day. She was quick to clarify that she had listed an address that served as a drop off point that she could get the mattress and bring to Faerie from there.

Before long, the three were all hauling a box each out from the storage warehouse that was situated at the back of the shop. The boxes were long, but flat and relatively narrow. It was simple enough for Mark to throw his over his shoulder and carry it with ease. Kieran had a box that was far wider as it housed the headboard and hardware, he carried it in front of him between outstretched arms. Cristina had a box similar to Mark’s, but she, like Kieran, carried hers in front of her, the box laying across her arms.

“I know a place we can drop these while we look around elsewhere. They will be safe there, and you can rest your arms,” she advised, hoping they could hear her from behind them.

“I do believe that would be a wise plan,” Kieran called over his shoulder.

She guided them to where a small abandoned warehouse was a few streets over. Upon closer inspection, it in fact wasn’t abandoned much as it was just under a glamour to hide what was happening inside. The building was milling with Downworlders, and Shadowhunters alike. They appeared to recognise Cristina as she walked over, talking to a warlock with pale violet head of hair a long tail that whipped around as she moved. The warlock had eyes green as grass, and skin blue as the sky; she glanced over to Mark, tilting her head in an attempt to see who hid behind the larger box. It was probably for the best that she didn’t realise that the King of Unseelie was out and about in the streets of Mexico City; even with the Alliance strongly established in nearly all corners of the world, there were still rogue Downworlders and Shadowhunters who would threaten them.

Cristina waved them over, having them set down boxes in an abandoned office space with a door. Cristina locked it with a gold key, and was sure the pair followed her out.

“This is the drop-point that most of us who belong to the Shadow World take and leave things, to the mundanes it looks like a much livelier place,” she explained, hands shoving into her jacket pockets.

“They didn’t recognise me,” Kieran remarked, a suspicious look coming over his face.

“Some of the residents here are so far out of touch since the Dark War and don’t know you’ve ascended to the throne. Some don’t even know that Arawn died,” she explained, her voice low as if to keep attention from them.

“Besides,” Mark said, his arm slinging over Kieran’s shoulder, “you have a team of redcaps following us around. They wouldn’t leave you anywhere unsafe.”

Kieran nodded, a hand reaching out to one of Cristina’s. The three strolled further down the streets, noticing an antique furniture shop that caught Mark’s eye. He walked them towards it, opening the door for the pair.

“Tina,” Mark came to her side, grasping her other hand, “how will we transport everything to the cottage?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern, “we have much to bring, this doesn’t seem feasible.”

Cristina reached into her jacket pocket, briefly exposing the polished infinity knot that was the _Eternidad_ , “as long as you hold on to me, and we all hold on to the things we need to bring, we can bring it back,” she explained, “at least, I think,” she added, slight uncertainty in her voice.

Mark responded with a nod, all doubts of their efficient travel erased. He went over to examine a regal looking burgundy camelback couch, running his hand along the velveteen upholstery. It had gold rope trim along the seams, soft material covering the plush couch. Mark tested it, lounging lazily on it. Kieran pulled Cristina towards him, pulling her down as they sat by Mark. The couch felt like the equivalent of a warm hug, and with the three of them together, it felt like heaven.

Though Kieran wasn’t particularly fond of the softest feelings, he had to admit that he liked the feeling of settling into the sofa. Mark looked to him, his eyes asking for his opinion. Kieran responded simply with a nod, “I enjoy it,” he stated as though it were a simple fact.

The two Shadowhunters heaved themselves up from the plush couch, wandering to look at a set of matching throw pillows adorned with a gold fringe trim. Cristina tossed one at Kieran, who was blissfully unaware of the incoming projectile. She let out an affectionate laugh, her nose crinkling. There was something cute about the way Kieran’s face went from being calm and at ease, to immediately on alert, and then broke into a grin when he saw Mark, aiming another pillow at him.

He launched the pillow at Kieran with a soft cry of “yeet,” as he threw it.

Kieran effortlessly caught the pillow, beholding him with a perplexed look. “Yeet?” he asked, tasting the strange word in his mouth, shaking his head in confusion.

Mark matched Kieran’s confused look, “Kit said that it is a term used in the mortal world that enhances precision when aiming for a target,” he stated. He turned to face Cristina, “is this information not correct?”

With a sigh, Cristina put her hand to her temple, _of course Kit told you that,_ she thought. “It isn’t,” she huffed, “I can guarantee that most of what Kit’s told you is much the same.”

Mark was struck with a mildly betrayed expression. It didn’t, however, seem to take too much of a toll on him, as he picked up another pillow, and tossed it at Cristina, hitting her square in the chest—no utterance of _yeet_ to follow this time. “Guess I don’t need the power of mundane words,” he said haughtily, a smug grin forming on his lips.

Cristina grabbed the pillow that had fallen to her feet and went over to Kieran and grabbed the other two. “We have been out for some time, we have had a long day,” she said, sitting down next to Kieran who had stayed on the couch. “Like the sofa?” she asked, leaning into his side.

Kieran wrapped an arm around her, “I much prefer it now that I can share it with you, Princess,” he proclaimed, a cheeky grin forming on his face.

Cristina couldn’t help the light blush that washed over her cheeks, “well, I’ll take that as a yes?”

Kieran simply nodded, “absolutely.”

Mark grabbed a pillow from Cristina, hugging it to his chest and sitting on her other side, “not to be a bother, but I am growing tired,” he looked to the pair, his eyes curious, “are we ready to leave soon?”

“If we wanna get this, we’re going to have to carry it back to the drop point, so if you aren’t too terribly tired yet…” she trailed off, looking back and forth from Mark to Kieran, and back to Mark.

Mark nodded, “as long as I can fall asleep on it when we are back,” he negotiated.

Cristina only nodded before standing up to find a sales clerk. It was easy enough, as the three had been the only customers in the store. It took a short amount of time before they were awkwardly carrying the long piece of furniture out the door, the matching pillows balanced on it.

Kieran had asked why it was different this time, why they didn’t get boxes to put together the couch as they had with the bed. It was Mark who actually answered, being aware that as an antique shop, most of the furniture was one of a kind, and no longer produced.

Kieran accepted the answer without further questions, and before they knew it, they had arrived back to the warehouse. Cristina directed them into the old office room where they had stored their bed frame, and returned the key to the blue warlock after they had gathered inside.

She pulled out the _Eternidad_ from her pocket, instructing the boys to hold onto her, and to all make sure they were in contact with each item that would be coming with them. Mark had lain himself across the plush couch, his legs clutching the throw pillows between them, an arm extended, holding Cristina’s forearm. Kieran held a hand on two of the boxes, and hooked arms with Cristina. Cristina had a hand on the last box, and her other held the _Eternidad_. She took a deep breath, _Please let this work,_ she thought to herself. She then whispered to the polished wood to take them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this chapter was pretty long compared to the previous one... but I hope that y'all enjoyed this chapter regardless! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


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